"The best things in life come in threes . . . friends, dreams and memories"
Author unknown
_____________________
Old and new friends are gems to cherish in my heart,
In my darkest hours friends have held me close;
Although in time we may be miles and miles apart
They have listened with tears to my sad grieving prose.
All my days are reverie and my nights lost in dreams,
And with my dripping pen I create my poetry;
With dream inspired words, lines, emotions and themes,
Sorrow has made me the poet I was meant to be.
Ah, memories, memories so bittersweet,
In my mind I see our old house amongst the trees;
I have memories of mom's tangled garden seat,
Of bright, heavenly flowers waving in the breeze.
And through the years I have learned life is deep,
Entangled with friends, dreams and memories to keep.
______________________________
March 14, 2015
Sonnet
For the contest, A Penny For Your Thoughts, sponsor, Sara Kendrick
Theme - Deep thoughts
Third Place

. . .
as a child I had an unwritten history in this world
blind, wailing and unaware, totally helpless
crying is all I knew of life at that time
deep in my throbbing heart a love was born
every day I was kissed and hugged by mother
full of wild mirth and infant joy, I laughed and smiled
gone now is that love for she lays in her tomb
hanging my head I write poems, pages and pages
in my soul I keep the memories from gathering dust
just yesterday, I reminisced a happy day of us
keeping the love from being lost, I write and write
look at me with your sad eyes
mother, I will paint poems full of love and grief
now and then, I gaze at the past with quivering tears
oh, and with my throbbing heart memories flow
past the clicking, ticking clock of life, I remove the dust
quietly, I bow my head at your tomb and let tears fall
returning often to clean the cold, weathered stone
sweet memories, memories, memories is all I have
till my last breath, no dust shall gather
until we meet beyond this domain of earth, I keep
visions of a realm where your beautiful soul sleeps
whatever time has destroyed, I must strive to remove the dust
xanadu, a garden lovely is where I dream that you dwell
your memory will never, ever, ever, ever gather dust, for
zillions of years from now my poetry will speak of deep love
_______________________________
February 26, 2015
Abecedarian
For the contest, Gathering Dust, sponsor, John Lawless
Second Place

Withered Are Memories Made On False Ground
Majesty of her charms , pale in light now
Love's glow has died, ashes only remain
She was sad , my heart took a fleeing bow
Her cries left only darkened bitter stain
No long goodbye words, we both knew not how
She was mad, I felt no need to explain
What is the past but dead dreams on black ice
Time returns us not to make our amends
Wishful thinking, going back would be nice
Yet new pains could rise, and forward it sends
With no overs, nothing said would suffice
Best journey on, racing around the bends
In hindsight , glory heavily infests
False goodness and sweet touches abound
However, truth lies in dark empty nests
Where heartache and misery were first found
Seek not ye fools gold as wisdom suggests
Withered are memories made on false ground
Robert J. Lindley, 5-02-2016

I’d like to pretend that my hands aren’t dirty
from the soap of mental suppression,
that the callouses are from hard work,
and not from picking my bones back up
off the floor on a daily basis;
ragged, dry, and weary.
Every fairy tale has a root,
stapled into the hard soil of truth.
They all have a moral,
some sort of clerical error
born from life’s shadow.
We watch, hoping to learn
from the missteps of someone
else’s intrepid imagination,
some 4D revelation singing
lullabies to the young heart
of humanity.
And they bend to the fickle
will of greedy creativity,
making the yoke less bitter
so that we can tongue the purge
of denial without pouting.
I’d like to pretend that my hands are clean,
that I don’t whisper cold lies into your palms,
watch you drink from the frosted glass
of my sincerity; Hope that you don’t blink,
that you won’t notice the blood bubbling
up, and over my shiver before you finally
finish this story.
I just want you to understand.
This isn’t poison.
This is merely me bleeding out,
and hoping you’ll learn to love the
taste of fire kissed oxymoronic metaphors,
served up with juiced will and the vegan
flesh of my inhibition.
So that you can see through my eyes,
know where I have been,
and how it felt to be consumed.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

Memories of guilt fall and spiral down
To fill love's empty soul with its debris
Tormented from sadness I know profound
I've built a funeral pyre my mind will see
Yesterday's desires I've folded in time
To cast on the flames where memories die
Lovers names burn in colored smoke and climb
Dispersing above in an endless sky
These burnt alms donated from my fool's gold
Are now gray cold ash born from flames that weep
Collected from tears and love that turned cold
From time's burning fires of flames, I reap
I've wept from my yesterdays that grew cold
Now lost in ashes as I have grown old
10/5/17 contest End of Form series
sponsor Broken Wings

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.
One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.
My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?
Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013

We remember her in blue skies.
She searched her young heart for answers.
She focused on beauty and hope,
with wisdom for all the world.
She searched her young heart for answers.
Her courage shone through her words
with wisdom for all the world,
and a spirit beyond her age.
Her courage shone through her words.
She focused on beauty and hope,
and a spirit beyond her age.
We remember her in blue skies.
Suzanne Delaney
A Pantoum
My first Pantoum. I was so surprised. It practically wrote itself.

I wrapped all my tears, to see you smile.
you are the best, always by my side.
I tell you my feelings will get you crying,
you must think I’m out of my mind.
You don’t know, what I know,
all the angels let me go.
We were born to teethe and die,
you will grow to be so fine.
Fall in love, feel your softer side,
Remember me when life is kind.
When you go, let me know,
don’t walk away like the world and go.
Life is rough and the world unkind,
fight them down and you will be fine.
The truth of live is a brutal sight,
make no mistakes, you can learn from mine.
You have a strong heart, you are unique
I treasure times when you smile at me.
Live the life, I could not find,
be there for me, when I say goodbye.

I will start with using my hand as a guide
And in the end I will open my eyes that I will decide
I consider to do this with one thing in mind
I will close my eyes and will imagine it blind
With no colors or fractionation of the light
Just plain me and a vision with my hand as my sight
My hair is very coarse and some what fine
What I just described is so benign
I twirl my hair and make it bend
And I will say its very clean not oily on the ends
As I press on my forehead I simply feel a distinct part
I notice from hair to skin it is very different from the start
The simple partings from hair not like skin
I am going to feel with my other hand and begin
The smoothness of my skin like years of water eroding a rough rock surface smooth
Not just that my skin is like home to years of stories like scars and attitude
And when I raise my eyebrows the wrinkles it makes is more so for expression
I did not notice it with certain ideas, thoughts, and emotions
I run my hands down to my eyelids I feel movement of my eyes trying to peek
Eyelids that I have, vibrates with some kind of fear, Why?, that I will seek
Just now as I thought about it a sensation ran through my brain
My eyes is the world to me and that is true and not insane
Myself portrait of me is through my touch for now
But to finish it I will have to open my eyes soon and how
I been in a trance full of so many ideas just with my eyes closed
I run my hand on my nose and lips and I smile who could apposed
The feelings in the tip of my fingers rub on my chin and jaw with care
I do notice roughness of unshaved velcro gripping hair
I skip my ears so I will sneak a feel with my fingers I chose
I notice it is like my nose with cartilage, so I don't suppose
I will now open my eyes that I will use a mirror to see myself
My head is oval shape and my neck is like a stump, please help
My skin is very tan and my eyes are brown with my eyes I see
With all the description with my hands, one sure thing is the same and key
It is the description of measurements that is what my hands and eyes can see me
With a smile I am looking into the mirror and I can describe that I am happy
Myself portrait of me is such a way to get to know myself once more
I will never think it was a waste of time or a bore

Look Away
Don't look this way
For I have been burned in the face.
Defeat and captured
Only released by the sound of my breathing.
From dust till dawn
I say look away for I no longer wish for you to see me.
Released the blood from my eyes.
Look away for I have you placed in my heart
I wish you not to see me this way.
Though I be burn ,torn,tattered and fatal wounded
Shall my breathing keep me sane.
May you memory keep me warm
See these words I speak,hear me breathing so shallow.
Feel the darkness that formed in my eyes
Since this is my mind I may be released.
But forever trapped in a maze that brings
Me up to drag me down.
Look away for I am burned in the face
As long as you remember your in my heart,
And memory I shall be in yours.
So I shall say look away
For I am burned tattered and torn inside my mind.
Just look away

He says he loves me then he says he loves me not
He loves me today but by tomorrow I'm forgot
He runs from my love but returns wanting more
I guess I'm to blame for letting the traveler explore,
See travellers just wander and are never here to stay
They admire the scenery and enjoy the display
They tour the land and ride the attractions
So memories become their only subtractions,
They search for an experience that is what they yearn
The condition once they leave is none of their concern!
So how can the land be devoted and true
When travellers come and go out of the blue.
The present is now and where he's travelled to,
But the past he calls home so he must return soon
Most likely just a visit although time can only tell,
But what he lusts is in this land and he knows it very well
He may call that place home but its this land that he seeks
Travellers on a mission never realize until they hit their peek
He continues to damage this land down to its core
So what's left to offer when their is nothing left in store?
The resources were depleted and the land left bare
He comes and goes as he pleases it doesn't seem fair;
See this land has been abused time and time again
Seeds that were planted, were means to an end
But pleasure and satisfaction was always accomplished
Because this land provided where the homeland was disadvantaged!
But despite the history and despite the trust
Submit to his urges is something he must.
So this time around his departure is permanent
Lack of faith and loyalty was the final determinant.
The damage he caused cannot be rendered,
So his visitation rights he has surrendered!
So leave this land I say and never look back
This is the path you chose I hope you can stay on track,
Cause travellers have memories of the lands they have stained
But the land only remembers the one that remained!

The Deliberate Coin Flip
Wrote a letter to a longtime friend now dead,
asking about other side, what he could tell.
Please my friend, send me a signal if this read
and also let me know to postmark, Heaven or Hell.
Seven years passed, I received not a single word
although I thought I had got several hints.
The was this strange late night squawking bird
that beat on my new car leaving bad dents.
Finally it came, a deep voice asking me this,
why on earth are you still waiting there?
I died, we all are taken right on to heavenly bliss
you should come, leave your worries and cares.
Confused, I asked why he had not replied before
answer came back, "your letter you never sent".
Now that innocent reply my heart it deeply tore,
truly I had not known where his soul had went.
I shot back, friend the postmark you did not tell
so in my usual deliberation I flipped to see.
If tails its heaven and if heads its depths of Hell
now fate is the culprit, certainly its not me.
Now I find its always heaven and you want me to now join
And just to think, I did deliberately use my two-headed coin!
R.J. Lindley
Aug. 9th, 1982
Note- A little humor tossed in, written 7 years after my buddy had died in 1975. He would have laughed and loved it. Guy told the best jokes I've ever heard, he knew hundreds and hundreds of them. Drunker we got, the funnier it all was. If only to be young once again and also see my departed friend. Sometimes we must find a way to laugh so we don't cry.
From my private poetry journals.
Do not blame me, my muse picked this one to post. She claimed she had important people to go meet and I wasn't one of them.
If only to be young once again and also see my lost friend.

On that cloudy weekend in June
I hear a soft and graceful tune
from the grey bird on the tree
branch
Singing sweet lullabies felt
blessed in the moment
My body tingles of joy at sight
Gazing out through
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon
Heart filled with emotion came
over me
Grey bird stood playing its tune
for awhile and on the wings of
letting go
Then as the rain fell from the
sky the grey bird flew away
gracefully
I blew a kiss to the clouds and
utterd these simple words of I
Love You father ( who's now in
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear
that grey bird sing again once
more for me
Farewell, love your son
Poem contest for Debbie -referential

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react
When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown
Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.

Wresting words from mind to pen
Spilling ink and thoughts again.
Recalling days of youthful fun,
Bags of marbles, precious ones.
Unshared secrets, memories old
Hidden deep in velvet folds,
Memories slip from faded pouch
Scattering verses all about
Things that matter most to me
Are those that others never see
I take them out occasionally
To touch caress, so selfishly
Not for prying eyes are these,
In rush I gather them to me,
Hold them close and breathe them in
Until I bring them out again.

Will you come with me down a road magical,
Only in my deep memory does this magic glow;
Now in poems, I pen poetry with words quite beautiful.
Does love ever really die or does it just continue to grow?
Every single day is wondrous, in remembrances utterly staggering,
Rhymes that swirl in my mind, must meet paper to become poems lovely;
From my memory comes the inspiration and concepts that are often weeping,
Unique this road I have travelled in my short life that make my words seem lonely;
Listen to my magical words, like bird songs in a forest, oh listen to the melody!
______________________________
January 4, 2016
Acrostic
Submitted to the contest, Wonderful Acrostic, sponsor, John Hamilton
Eighth Place

I Refusing To Cry, You To Ever Yield
I never went into your dark room
never saw your silent rage
In my mind your cannons never boom
nor does your face ever age
I never felt your lonely trance
never saw you naked in a cage
In this dark world you truly dance
with the melodic words of a sage
We never journeyed to the Keys
never saw that perfect moonlight
In your gaze rested your pleas
to be so closely held at midnight
We never lived in each other's dreams
never wept to the same sad tune
Side by side we waded cool streams
yet we never wed in early June
Our days, were they numbered badly
sunburnt harvest stripped from the field
Was it destined to end that sadly
I refusing to cry and you to ever yield
Robert J. Lindley

It happens when you’re debilitated, laid-up, sick;
random images, memories
coalesce within the unoccupied reason of your mind.
Maybe you have a memory, standing on a hill, chilled,
watching the final high school football game of the season.
Maybe you are a fictional character writing about mixed emotions:
your youth transcending societal doubt.
You could be a real person
fictionalizing a pubescent experience
upon a million future pages
describing insecurity at a time of social transition.
Agerstown Pennsylvania wasn’t a bad place to live,
but Pencey was a haven of unforgiving classmates.
Absent mindedness was no excuse
and a lack of self-discipline was grounds for expulsion.
The History instructor was an engaging and affable fellow,
like instructors are.
He was concerned about you,
that instructor that spoke with you
and was aware of the student unable to apply his self
in the presence of teenage shenanigans and impulsive drama.
It seems you were a victim
or a misapprehension of circumstance.
The lack of women at Pencey Prep School was obvious.
The slovenly plain and fidgeting daughter of the headmaster drew your eye.
A growing libido and an ailing fantasy life is no way to grow up.
And while such things make for an interesting read,
they are thin of poetry, romance, and sexual deeds.
Upon the hill pondering flashes of memory,
physical youth seems pleasurable compared to a bleak, unknowable future.
Some good-byes are worth waiting for, some are not.
We always seem to remember bad good-byes.
It is remembering what could-have-been
that keeps us recounting such random and undesired images.

Sinking in deeper,
No way to escape,
The dark and scary Reaper,
Fore told in the Book of Life.
Is this my end?
Will I ever see the light of day again?
No. My wounds, I must mend.
I must find my strength.
Stand my ground,
Face my fears.
Only then will my voice be found
I must survive.
Break the suffocating chains,
Run from the darkness.
Power will fill my veins.
I will Fight!
Fight the painful names,
The horrid memories,
The demented games
And escape My Black Abyss.

MUM ...
WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM
FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE
GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND
REGRET FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO SO ****ING MUCH ,
THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST
BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD
YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE
WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO
LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE
YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER ,
IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR
PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME ,
FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR
BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED
YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,
I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.
THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,
NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.
IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,
I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,
ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,
ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.
GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,
HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,
THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,
TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.
ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,
ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,
HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,
AND LEAD THE WAY,
FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....
I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND,
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me

This is a script to read again
Its wordings are clear- no blunder
Each page on its own is a sane
It has distinct words to ponder
I’m yet to find its replacement
This is a script to read again
It’s obvious in its endowment
A script fit beyond thousand reigns
With what I've seen, I've much to gain
Those about lives before our own
This is a script to read again
Can any author beat this Lone?
In everything it’s just the star
I think its lost can’t be regain
It’s the same here and in Dakar
This is a script to read again.

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.
When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,
ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,
does Allah not recoil in horror,
to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.
Where is the indignation,
the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,
where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,
where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,
where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,
where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.
14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,
her crime?
Advocating the rights of girls to an education.
Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.
Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.
Shame on me,
for my inaction,
Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,
yet are conspicuously silent,
when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,
by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.
Not in my name!
Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,
Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,
Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,
left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,
not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,
not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!
To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,
as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.
I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,
yet I fear,
that I shall write more of this,
unless we stand up and say 'no more',
I fear that I shall be writing this again,
until we all,
reclaim the true principles of humaneness,
until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,
I fear I shall be writing this again,
and,
until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,
I shall continue to say,
NOT IN MY NAME!
Or else I shall have nothing,
but my unending shame.
(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)

"Roll on tonight my mates are coming round
For a few cold beers and some rocking sounds
Time is drawing near, as I hear a knock at the door
Blimey! at this time of the night, a vacuum salesmen stands before"
"Hey pal make it quick, I have a party to host
Tell me your pitch, now disappear your a ghost
The best place for them is in the lunar craters
Sucking on Listerine soaked tissues, singing, "see you later alligator"
"Another knock on the door, and I'm pleasantly surprised
All my intended buddies on my doorstep, the parties arrived
For a night of drifting, ending with earache and pain
Entering wormholes of insomnia, no pain no gain"
"Our party is going to be like a cool Rock 'n' Roll gig
Beers flowing a plenty, this ain't no highland jig
We start with Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention
Best friends and myself, our schooldays convention"
"This is no wine and dine as Dire Straits play
The "Sultans of Swing" sounds excellent any day
Next we play Deep Purple, listening to Jon Lord's Hammond sounds
Music is our medicine in six speaker surround"
"In between sounds to the kitchen we head
Tid-bits and more beers to keep our gig well fed
We sample some Grunge Metal listening to Nuclear Waste
But once again Classic Rocks rules, as Grunge is not our taste"
"For the next couple of ours it's like The Monsters of Rock
AC/DC and UFO, the Rock never stops
We air guitar to "Whole Lotta Rosie"
Wearing spandex boxer shorts, one of us drumming like Cozy"
"We all awake in the morning, some with sore heads
But it was never a night that we were ever going to dread
It was a bunch of guys who met whilst at school
Who released their friendly energy, like fools but really cool"
"Tom, I never knew you, but I thank Catie for this
Writing this poem, just fills me with bliss
I know you will be busy, but if you happen to look down
Give our convention a shout, join our Rock n Roll clowns"
My tribute to Mr Tom Bell, so many people spoke about him.
Reading what they said, I only wish I knew him.

Fading Memory, Remembered But Soon Gone
Where once your eyes saw my saddest light
Where once your heart begged for my kiss
Where once you loved me deeply at night
All of that and much more I dearly miss.
Your love you gave so very well for a time
Your touch, you were so generous and free
Your laughter when I would repeat my rhyme
Your request for another poem about a tree.
All of that and so much more I dearly miss
Now time has taken you from my soft touch
Now time denies me your memories, my bliss
Now time sets to justly punish me this much.
I fall into this deep, dark and massive abyss
Where I shall forget all of our secret trysts!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-28-2016

MUM ...
WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM
FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE
GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND
REGRET FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO SO ****ING MUCH ,
THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST
BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD
YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE
WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO
LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE
YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER ,
IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR
PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME ,
FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR
BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED
YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,
I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.
THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,
NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.
IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,
I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,
ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,
ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.
GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,
HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,
THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,
TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.
ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,
ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,
HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,
AND LEAD THE WAY,
FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....
I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND,
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me